Volo Kalimir's page

Well crap, I could've sworn I posted a response to Breah re: Dash. Must've been eaten by the board gremlins.
"Dash." Volo says slowly as if he were writing the name down. "And the droid was gifted recently. Got it. Let's keep going with our task. The Jedi and I'll get down to the bottom of this, but we can't change any of our plans or else Dash'll know we're onto him... If that damn droid isn't relaying everything we say already."

Once everything is quiet again, Volo begins work on Breah. He opens with a hearty laugh.
"Damn, quite the eventful trip so far, eh Breah? Not even a day off of Coruscant and trouble finds me. It's a talent, really. Twenty plus years rollicking in the rotting muck of that cesspool and you're bound to make some enemies. Didn't think I'd ever make any quite like the CIS, but I'm sure they won't take my name too lightly if we ever cross paths again. Do you believe that was pure chance? I don't know much about this master of yours, but it smells to me like she's got a trash heap rife with rats." He pulls out a snack stick from within his vest and begins smacking away at it while he talks. "So, d'you think it was the droid who sold us out? He's got control of where the ship ends up after all. It would be the perfect set-up. Or how about that wookiee you mentioned? How about this: any bad blood your lady got brewing? These are need to know things," Volo says nonchalantly. "You've got a crew full of people on this ship whose only terms of loyalty is a paycheck. They can come across that sort of money other ways. If you want me to keep them in line, you're going to have to tell me everything you know, everything you think, everything you might even suspect as foul. Something like this happened too early on and could've spooked my people out already. I'll get them back together though, just be honest with me, Breah. What's going on?"

Persuasion powers activate! Perception is to pick up on any tells that he might be lying or hiding anything.
Persuasion+Force Point: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (15) + 7 + (2) = 24
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Edit: Using Heightened Awareness
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Roc grabs his robe as he walks down the corridor. He casually puts it on as he speaks. Anybody trying to read his lips would have a hard time.

"Very little," Roc says in hushed tones, "This whole mission had scant details and briefing. Any one of us except you or I could be a spy. She seems very taken with material pleasures and highly emotionally unstable, but it could be an act. Her pilot seems to be as he says at least. I noticed he has a few concealed weapons on him but it is not too surprising if he acts as her bodyguard in these times. That droid seemed to show up looking for work with suspicious timing. The jawa is . . . a jawa. Rin Shi has hardly spoken a word since I saw her on the landing platform. I don't know what to think about the Gungan at all.

"I say you press our employer for more details. I'll work Breah and see if I can get him to leak any information"

"Yeah, oddly...." is all Volo adds. "Trellian was it? Can I speak to you in private?"

"Kick rocks, CIS scum!" Volo shouts as he offers the long-gone droids a rather vulgar hand gesture.
hehe couldn't help myself

"Well, let's see... We've got pilot, co-pilot, mechanic, our employer, and her two... uh, how do I put this? Her two.... lovers. She's got quite the appetite, if you catch my drift. Er... wait, droids don't partake in-- well maybe they do this isn't the time-- excuse me. I must remind you, this is a luxury vessel that stresses on the finer pleasures in life. Sometimes that means an additional partner or two. As I said, we mean you no trouble. We'll be on our way. Good luck to ya."
Deception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"Ah, great," Volo says as he kicks out of his reclined position. He shoots the Bith a discerning look. "We're clean, Right Breah? Anything on-board we need to be worried about?" Volo takes a deep breath, and before he can think, his finger depresses the com-line and his mouth blabbers on.

"Hi, this is Captain Volo Kalimir of the Luxury Transport 'Platinum Pleasure Cruise'. We've been having issues with our hyperdrive's coordinate synchronizer. We've got our mechanic putting the finishing touches on it. My apologies for the trouble, but we'll be on our way momentarily." he releases the com-line and turns slowly towards Roc Trellian with an only slightly mortified look on his face. He mouths the words "Sorry" while serving a shrug to the Jedi. "I'll take a shot if we have any."

Deception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

"Tractor beam? Let's hope it's our lucky day..."

Volo doesn't budge from his lax position. He peeps as best he can over his boots on the console, while his hand slowly moves within his vest and removes the safety clip on his holster. "Should we be worried about these separatists?"

Volo tries his best to hide his excitement. He wanted so badly to leave Coruscant and it was finally happening. He found his way to the stars. It wasn't quite under the circumstances he hoped for, but he'd done it nonetheless. What would his father say if he could see him now? Volo only hoped that he'd be proud of him, regardless of the methods.

"So where to first, Breah?"

"B9, is it?" Volo says into the comm. "You've got attitude. I like that. Th' name's Vol. looking forward to working with ya."
He releases the comm button and gets a good look at the cockpit. "So, Breah... What exactly does your master have in mind? She wasn't too detailed when I was hired."
Deception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

lol

"Yeah..." he responds with a dumbfounded look on his face, "that's what your lady hired me for. I'm a pilot, I pilot." He checks his attitude and readdresses Breah. "I'll just sit-in and co-pilot for a little. You've got no reason to worry, I'm not here to replace you or anything. I think she said it's in case something comes up."

Deception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Volo confidently follows in step behind Breah towards the cockpit, ignoring the fact that he wasn't invited.

"Ready to board? Uh... Yeah hold on... Give me a minute." Volo looks nervously towards the EasyRide. Had he just gotten himself in way over his head? Best to bring a blaster, he thought to himself. "I gotta get this hunk of junk back to HQ, it'll be just a minute. Don't leave without me!"
Volo half-runs back towards the airspeeder, leans over precariously and retrieves his blaster pistol from under the seat. He tucks it safely within his hidden holster. He stretches a little further to the EasyRide's onboard computer and activates it's SkyLane programming. Within minutes, the airspeeder joined hundreds of others on the SkyLane, headed off back to depot.

"Hey! Yeah, let's get going!"

"Be cool, Jedi. Be cool." Volo mumbles through pursed lips.

Volo's eyes grow. Hired? Can't imagine his employer paying cheaply with a ride like that... Suddenly, food doesn't seem so important. He takes a few steps back towards the odd crowd he'd somehow missed seconds earlier.
"Yeah that's us, the escorts. Hired by your master, hired to escort and to protect."
Persuasion: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

The newcomer shoots a look at the others, trying his best to imbed himself. No words are needed to pick up what he's putting down: Don't mess this up for me.

"How do we know you're who we're waiting for? I don't recall your master mentioning a Bith picking us up. How do we know we can trust you?"

Stiffed again, Volo thinks to himself as he sits idle. Yet another day's work gone unappreciated. He kicks his feet up on the dash, eases back in his seat and watches the carefully calculated chaos that is the SkyLane. Hundreds, thousands of vehicles darting in and out, narrowly missing one another, completely controlled by computers or droids so that accidents never happen. Passengers content with being ferried about with little sense of urgency. Thanks for the license, Pops. If it wasn't for you, I'd be stuck grounded working behind a computer screen, making sure all's well on the SkyLane. Probably rotting away and dying on the inside.
A hover bike takes off the platform. Vol slides his goggles back over his eyes and pantomimes a starfighter's dogfight. "'Prsh prsh! Yellow-8 here, I've got the target in my sights. Peeeersh! He's down! He's down! Pack it up boys, goin' home!' Hah, that'd be the life." He looks around a few times in hopes that someone-- anyone-- would want a ride, but alas, there's no one waiting.
"Might as well grab lunch while I sit around. They've gotta have a food court in that place."

Volo sets the EasyRide airspeeder to park and hops out.

An aging yellow EasyRide airspeeder eases into a docking port outside of a massive dome-topped building. It's operator, a young tan-skinned Zabrak, turned back in his seat to face his passengers.

"And finally, we've got the famed Coruscant Senate Building, in all it's glory. I know what you're thinking. 'Oooh! Ahhhh! Ain't it a beaut!' Well, yeah, sure, whatever. I'm betting you guys are here for some big business, so uh, I hope you keep in mind the exciting and timely ride when considering a big tip."
He pops the doors open, turns back to his passengers and serves them a pearly white grin, hoping that they'll follow through.

Leaving this open ended for whoever would like to be his passenger. I don't intend on him knowing anyone other than as their taxi driver